Plantagenet 1 - The Plantagenet Prelude (3 page)

He, like his father, had never been a man to indulge in warfare. Aquitaine had been secure for generations and its people enjoyed a peaceful life. The Duke had hated war. He could not forget the sight of men dying around him; the heart-rending wailing of women and children driven from their homes.

Could it be that he
had
offended God and that until he received absolution he could not hope for a son?

He wanted to explain to this vital girl of his why he wanted a male heir. He wanted her to understand the difficulties that could befall a woman. She never would because she saw no difficulties. Yet they were there.

He wanted to see a son growing to manhood, a son who would take the reins of government in his hands before his father died. That would give continued peace to Aquitaine.

Then the idea came to him which had come to so many before him. He must placate his God and the one way to do this was to go on a pilgrimage to offer homage to the shrines of the saints. The most ardent sinners gained absolution in this way. He, the tenth Duke William of Aquitaine, would follow their example.

‘What I must do,’ he said, ‘is go on a pilgrimage. I will visit the shrine of a saint and there I shall gain forgiveness of my sins. When I have done this I shall come back and marry, and God will grant me the blessing of a son.’

Eleonore narrowed her eyes.

The pilgrimage would not be achieved in a few weeks; then there would have to be the matter of selecting a suitable bride.

It was always best to put off evil for as long as possible. There was a good deal to be done before her father could marry and beget a son.

Something told Eleonore he never would.

There was the bustle of preparations. Having made his decision Duke William felt serene in his mind. He was to travel to the shrine of Saint James at Compostella and there he would pray for a fruitful marriage. His daughter watched his preparations with a certain cynical satisfaction as though she knew his prayers would remain unanswered.

He felt contrite in a way, for he loved her dearly. He admired her, as did most people who were aware of her dominant personality. If only she had been of the male sex he would have asked nothing more. He wanted her to understand that only in being female had she failed. And not for him; like his father, he had the utmost admiration for her sex, but it was others he must consider.

At the moment she was the heiress of vast possessions. Rich Aquitaine could be hers and thereby put her in command of as much territory as that possessed by the King of France. It was true that they were the vassals of the King of France but in name only. The kings of France knew that the dukes of Aquitaine wielded as much - perhaps more - power than they did. It was a matter of form that the dukes bowed to the king.

‘It is a hazardous journey to Compostella,’ said the Duke one day to his daughter. ‘It is that which makes it certain that any who reach it, by the very arduous nature of their journey, will have their prayers answered.’

‘You are a fool to undertake such hazards.’

‘I feel it to be a duty.’

‘Duty! Bah! But make the journey if you wish it. And see what comes of it.’

‘Would to God it were not necessary, Eleonore. I think of you constantly. I find it hard to leave you.’

”Tis of your choosing,’ she told him coldly.

‘Not mine, but those to whom I owe a duty. I shall take few men with me.’

”Twould not be fitting to travel in great state on such an errand,’ she agreed.

‘And I would leave my bravest behind to protect you.’

‘I can protect myself.’

‘There is no harm in having a stalwart guard. And I shall confer with the King of France for he will be eager to come to your aid if I should ask him.’

‘You would trust him?’

‘Yes, if his son were mine also and my daughter his.’

‘You mean a marriage!’

‘Yes. A marriage between you and the son of the King of France.’

She smiled quietly. Well, it was not a bad prospect. If she were going to give up Aquitaine she would be Queen of France.

Louis VI was so large that he was known as Louis the Fat. He could not possibly live much longer. Rumours filtered into Aquitaine that he was confined to his bed and because of his immense size no one could lift him from it. He had been over-fond of food and this was the result. His son was a boy a year or so older than Eleonore. She liked what she had heard of young Louis. He should be easily governed by a dominating wife. And she must marry soon. Only she knew how close she had come to submitting to the ardours of some of her admirers. There were members of her sex who were women at the age of fourteen. Eleonore of Aquftaine was one of them. It was a mercy that she was ambitious and proud; this saved her from being carried away by her intense physical desires.

She, more than any, knew that for her marriage should not be long delayed.

‘When I return,’ said her father, ‘I must marry; and then there must be a double wedding. When my bride comes to Aquitaine you must go to the court of France.’

‘But would the King of France wish his son to marry me if I were not your heiress?’

‘The King of France will rejoice in an alliance with rich Aquitaine. He is astute enough to know its worth. And there are no alliances to compare with those forged by marriage bonds.’

She nodded gravely.

It was a bright prospect, but she was unsure. If she could bring Aquitaine to her husband she would be warmly welcomed. But otherwise?

It was a cold January day when the Duke set out for Compostella.

His daughters were in the courtyard wrapped in their sable-lined cloaks, to wish him Godspeed.

‘Farewell,’ said the Duke embracing first Eleonore and then Petronelle. ‘God guard you.’

‘Rather let us ask Him to guard you, Father,’ said Eleonore.

‘He will smile on my mission, rest assured of that,’ replied the Duke, ‘and when I return I shall be free of my burden of siri.’

Eleonore was silent; she had suggested he postpone his journey for it was foolish to set off in winter. She had believed that it was always good to postpone that which one hoped would never take place. But the Duke was assured of the urgency of the undertaking and would not consider delay.

‘He will suffer for his foolishness,’ Eleonore confided to Petronelle, who agreed with her sister. For Petronelle, like many others, adored her dazzling elder sister.

When the cavalcade had clattered out of the courtyard Eleonore and her sister went up to the topmost turret there to watch its progress.

One would never have guessed that it was the Duke of Aquitaine who rode at its head. He was humbly dressed as a pilgrim should be, and he had taken so few of his followers with him.

The castle was well fortified and Eleonore was its mistress. If any dared come against her there would be stalwart knights to protect her. And none would dare for was she not half promised to the son of the King of France?

This was a waiting time, a time when the great fire in the centre of the hall sent its smoke up to the vaulted ceiling and the smell of roasting venison filled the castle. It was too cold to frolic in the beautiful gardens; they must perforce make do with the castle hall; and there they feasted and danced; they sang their ballads; they strummed their harps and the sweet notes of the lute were heard throughout the castle.

Over the entertainments reigned the bold and beautiful Eleonore. Many of the gallants sighed for her favours and she often thought of granting them; but they must for the time content themselves with singing of love.

So while Duke William traversed the icy roads on his way to Compostella, Eleonore reigned supreme surrounded by her troubadours. She might be destined to become the Queen of France but she was the first Queen of the Troubadours.

Duke William quickly realised how unwise he had been to set out in the winter. The rough roads were icy; the wind biting. Valiantly the horses endeavoured to make their way but the going was slow. Yet, said the Duke to his little band of pilgrims, the very fact that we suffer these hardships means that our sins will be the more readily forgiven. What object would there be in travelling in comfort? How could we hope for our sins to be forgiven if we did not suffer for our redemption?

When darkness fell they rested wherever they found themselves. Sometimes it would be in a castle, sometimes in a peasant’s humble home.

The Duke thought much of the castle of Ombriere and pictured Eleonore in the great hall, the firelight flickering on her proud handsome face; the young men at her feet watching her with yearning in their eyes. That power in her would attract men to her until she died. It was yet another inheritance of this richly endowed young woman. She could take care of herself. That was his great comfort. Eleonore would lead others; no one would force her to do what she did not wish. He thought of her - those large eyes which could be speculative when she considered her future and soulful when she listened to the songs of her troubadours, that thick hair which fell to her waist, the oval face and the strong line of the jaw. His great comfort was: Eleonore will take care of herself no matter what happens.

When he came back with the blessing of Saint James, when he married and his son was born, Eleonore would still be a desirable
parti
. Would the King of France consider her worthy of his son without the rich lands of Aquitaine?

That was a matter to be thought of when the time came. First he must get his son. Nay, he thought, first he must get to Compostella.

He had coughed a great deal through the night and the icy winds had affected his limbs; they felt stiff and unwieldy. It would pass when he returned to the comfort of his home. One did not expect a pilgrimage to be a comfortable holiday. The saint would be gratified that he had endured such hardship to pay homage at his shrine. And when the weather changed and he could live comfortably again, his cough would go and the stiffness leave his limbs.

The party had crossed into Spain, but here the going was rougher than ever. The countryside was sparsely populated and because it was so difficult to get along they often found no shelter when night fell. The Duke was now so weak that his followers decided that they must at the earliest opportunity construct a litter that he might be carried.

Wishing to endure the utmost hardship, the Duke protested at first. Only if he suffered would the saint intercede with such fervour for him that his sins be forgiven and he gain his goal. But it was useless; he had become too ill to sit his horse; he must submit.

There was no comfort in being carried over those rough roads. He was soon in great pain and it suddenly occurred to him that he might never reach the shrine, that there would never be the marriage which would give him the male heir for Aquitaine.

Morosely he contemplated the future as he was jolted along.

Eleonore the richest heiress in Europe and a girl of fourteen. He should have been content with what he had been given. Not a son but a girl who was as good as any boy, a girl who failed only in her sex. And because he had not been content with what God had given him, he had ventured on this pilgrimage from which he was beginning to wonder whether he would ever emerge.